Beth’s Place

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For the experienced or adventurous, I presume this story may seem a bit trite or modest compared to some of the hardcore fantasies I’ve encountered on this site. I enjoy those stories as well, but this particular tale is 100% true; as outlandish (and yes, perverse) as some of the details may be. This will be my first attempt at chronicling my escapades, but with some encouragement, it may not be my last.


I live in a quiet neighborhood in a quiet suburb of a quiet city. Some may even say it’s boring. But I am very much taken with my community and live a perfectly pleasant, content life. It is behind the closed doors of those understated houses, however, where all kinds of experiences can transcend the tranquil appearances.

And so it is with this story as well.

I am single, but by choice. I’ve never considered settling down with any particular female, and although I’ve seen several relationships through to their respective bitter ends, I’ve always appreciated variety too much to be tied down with one woman. The diversity of the female form is one of the great joys in life. I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy any number of shapes, sizes and colors. The spice of life indeed.

I had known Beth Clark for several years. As the wife of my childhood buddy Jeff, she’d become a good friend as well. They lived two streets over and I was a frequent guest. But when Jeff succumbed to the trappings of a quarterlife crisis and left her for another woman to raise two twin girls on her own, I stepped in to help her out any way I could. My intentions were pure and innocent. I felt guilty for befriending such a son of a bitch that would leave his wife and children, so I offered a hand if she ever needed it. I figured a single working mom could use all the help she could get.

It never occurred to me to lust after Beth. She was attractive, for sure, but a wife or girlfriend of a buddy is strictly off limits. The guy code and all that. I still noticed her though. Physically, having children complimented her. Naturally thin, her two pregnancies had filled out her figure and enhanced her hourglass shape. I had indeed appreciated this, but with a detached admiration. I find full-figured women to be exceptionally beautiful when they carry themselves with confidence. Beth did so with aplomb. She was sultry and sweet, with piercing blue eyes and full lips. Whenever I was around her, I had to make a concerted effort to keep my eyes from drifting from her easy smile down to her full bosom. With ample hips and a trim waistline, more than once I scolded myself for enjoying her walk away. She was the wife of a friend, after all.

Controlling my keen attraction for Beth didn’t wasn’t necessarily difficult after her husband left her. I kept stray thoughts in check out of respect. I admired her for being such a strong woman, going back to work, maintaining a household and keeping it together. Nothing – nothing – is sexier than a strong, purposeful woman. Beth had those qualities in spades.

As independent as she had become, however, raising a family on your own is hard. I had an easygoing lifestyle with little responsibility save for my job as a journalist, so I pitched in when I could. I made sure to intrude only minimally. I still got the feeling Beth was distrustful of men in general (and understandably so). One of my few humble talents is taking care of landscaping. Mowing, trimming, planting, mulching. These are things that needed to be done that Beth didn’t have the time or energy to see to. I was more than happy to oblige.

We had a standing date. Every Wednesday evening, Beth would take the twins to a movie, or out to dinner, or to the park for a few hours. I would come over and take care of the lawn while they enjoyed family time. It was a small thing to do, but it gave me satisfaction to facilitate some quality face-time together for them. Between work and day care and soccer practice and school, Beth had precious little time to spend with her daughters.

That Wednesday began like any other. I put on my work boots and torn jeans, loaded up my pick-up with the mower and grass trimmer, and headed to Beth’s. She met me at the door with a warm smile and invited me in.

“Hey Brett”, she greeted, brushing strands of her dark brown shoulder-length hair off of her flushed hurried cheek. “We’re running a little behind tonight. Come on in, I just put on some coffee for you.”

I hadn’t stepped through the door when her two 5-year old girls, Shelby and Grace, latched on to my pant leg and hung on for dear life. “Uncle Brett!!!”, they gleefully shouted.

I tousled their hair and picked them up by their waists. “Hey girls,” I grinned, kissing them on the cheek. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“No,” said Shelby precociously. “Gracie hit me yesterday and left a boo-boo. See?” She lifted her sleeve to show me the battle wound. I had to strain to make out any kind of bruise at all.

“Well I’m sure it was an accident,” I feigned disapproval, illegal bahis looking at her sister. “Right, Grace?” She nodded quickly and affirmatively.

Beth laughed and chimed in, “Okay girls, say goodbye to Uncle Brett and get your things.” She turned to me and sighed, rolling her eyes. “We’re going to see a movie at the park tonight. Finding Nemo. For the fifth time.”

I chuckled and wondered how long it had been since Beth had seen a real movie with a grown-up. If she was dating, I didn’t know it and it was none of my business anyway. The girls scampered out the door with their Disney backpacks full of toys and sugary snacks. Beth bent down to pick up her purse from the entryway floor. As she did so, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at her off-white cotton panties just peeking out of her khaki shorts as her white tee shirt rode up ever so slightly on her back. My eyes lingered for a moment before I averted them respectfully. No sense getting caught ogling.

She straightened up and adjusted her shorts before leaning in and kissing my cheek. A moment of genuine sincerity washed over her face. “Thanks again, Brett. You know I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You know that you don’t have to thank me, Beth. It’s nothing…really.”

She nodded and left without another word. We go through the same ritual every week. The same words. The same sweet peck on my cheek. She knows that I know she’s grateful. But she says it out of appreciation.

I watched her leave, wanting her to turn her head and smile at me one more time. I get to see her pretty face only once a week. And although my thoughts were honestly pure, I always love to see her and never got tired of admiring her beauty. Right before she reached the end of the walkway, she turned and smiled. Ah…that’s what I was waiting for.

Beth knew I was a coffee addict and always brewed me a fresh pot before I came over – even on a hot summer day. After they’d pulled out of the driveway and I waved goodbye, I made my way through the entry to the kitchen, found a Styrofoam cup and poured myself some. I paused to sip as I looked around.

Before her husband left Beth, the double-income family did quite well for themselves. Jeff was an attorney and Beth a nurse, so they had money to spare. Their home, however, was quite modest. The small ranch style was tastefully decorated and inviting. So when Jeff ran off, Beth was able to maintain the payments without much difficulty. She kept it meticulously tidy.

The door to the garage was down the hallway that was connected to the kitchen. The girls’ room and a small bathroom were on the left and the master suite was off to the right. I started down the dimly lit hall and glanced into Beth’s bedroom as I walked past. Something on the floor caught my eye. Beth kept her home painstakingly free of clutter. When I’d visited in the past, everything was in its place. The girls’ toys were picked up, the carpet swept clean, and the dishes were always put away. I’d never seen a stray piece of laundry on the floor. So when I saw a bright pink pile of fabric conspicuously strewn on Beth’s bedroom floor, I did a confused double-take.

I don’t snoop. Again, Beth’s business is hers alone and not mine. I am merely a friend and her volunteer lawn boy. And I’m not the type to rifle through drawers or medicine cabinets looking for titillating pieces of evidence to store away in my mind in order to satisfy some nosy curiosity.

But that afternoon I was intrigued. My prying interest was piqued. It was a strange thing to see something out of place in Beth’s home and for some reason I was driven to investigate. I walked into her bedroom and set the cup of coffee on her dresser. The pink wad of cloth lay on her beige carpet in front of the bed. I knelt down to inspect.

Before I knew exactly what I was doing, I unfolded the soft material to realize I was holding a pair of Beth’s panties in my hands. At that very moment – without any kind of cognitive restraint – some hidden synapse in my brain fired and flooded my mind with all sorts of lustful, terrible, wonderful thoughts. My heart raced and my chest heaved with sudden breath. I felt my face flush with wild excitement. I stood trembling for what seemed like an eternity.

All of my pent up desires about Beth came tumbling into my mind’s eye all at once. I envisioned those pink cotton panties on her curvy hips and nearly went weak with exhilaration. I wanted to rip them off of her and discover the treasures underneath. I’d seen plenty of underwear on plenty of women, but none seemed as sexy and beautiful and perfect as these. I turned them over in my hands. They were simple and understated, size 8 bikini cut, and they drove me absolutely wild. I reached down and shifted the growing bulge in my jeans with one hand while bringing the underwear up to my face with the other. I inhaled deeply. It smelled of sweet fabric softener and the lingering scent of woman. Perfect.

I am an illegal bahis siteleri infrequent masturbator. I find that it dulls the actual experience with a real woman. No matter how much practice I get at pleasuring myself, nothing is good as a woman’s hand, or mouth, or whatever. But this was different. This was an experience.

I unzipped my pants and fished my hardening member out of the fly of my boxer shorts. It had been awhile since I was that hard. My cock was warm and throbbing in my hand. I stroked it until it was at its very fullest attention. Then I began carefully wrapping the pair of panties around the shaft. The cool material felt wonderful as I grabbed hold with both hands and began slowly and methodically pumping the fabric up and down. It would not take long before I exploded into Beth Clark’s underwear.

I was completely lost in a moment of lewd filthy pleasure. It felt so dirty to be defiling this innocent woman’s unmentionables. That was part of the appeal, I suppose. I had never done anything like it and I absolutely loved it.

I never heard the footsteps behind me.

“What the FUCK!?!?”, I heard a voice exclaim. I spun around with my engorged penis still wrapped in pink cloth. Beth stood not ten feet away watching me obscenely spoil her panties. I release my cock in surprise and they fell to the floor.

“Oh shit”, I stammered in surprise as I scrambled to conceal myself. “I am so sorry.”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” she demanded with her hands firmly planted on her hips.

Filled with embarrassment and shame, I pushed past her into the hallway. “Beth…I…”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, you goddam pervert. What if I would have sent one of the girls in to make sure I turned off my fucking curling iron? I can’t even look at you, asshole.”

She must have seen the blood drain from my face as my chin fell toward my chest. She startled me with a quick and harsh slap. I looked at her in disbelief. She was absolutely furious and pointed a finger at the door. My cheek was still stinging as I left the house and got into my car to drive away. I didn’t even make eye contact with the girls in the back of her idling SUV. I couldn’t. I was pathetic and shameful. They didn’t need to see an immoral man like me anymore. I was crestfallen over my disgusting selfishness. Tears stung my eyes.

It broke my heart.

So I drove.

First through the city and then out through the country. I couldn’t even stand to look at myself in the rearview mirror. I had no destination and little purpose. My shoulders slumped in regret as I listlessly steered the truck somewhere. Anywhere.

I just drove.

Finally, I made my way back to my neighborhood half a tank of gas poorer. I sat in the driveway and tried to reason with myself why I shouldn’t move to a different state. My shameful sexual urges had ruined an extremely rewarding friendship. And the girls…it would crush me if they thought of their “Uncle” Brett as a deviant.

Popping a beer, I sat down hard on my sofa. I considered calling to apologize, but it was well past eleven and I didn’t want to wake the girls. I thought about emailing, but I didn’t want to seem like I was avoiding confrontation. I was a man and I can admit when I’m wrong. And this time, I was very, very wrong.

I sat in the dark and silence. Another beer. My head began to swim. I dozed. I was startled out of the snooze by the chime of my computer waking out of sleep mode. The indicator beep for my email signaled a new message. Wiping my eyes I sat in my desk chair and read the dialog box. It was from Beth.

“You need to finish what you started.”

I read it three times.

Not knowing how to respond, I simply wrote, “???”

Seconds later, the next line read, “You need to come over RIGHT NOW, and finish what you started.” And then I saw she logged off.

Confused, I wondered what she meant. Did she want me to mow in the dark? Or did she have something else in mind? I allowed my mind to wander to something naughtier. But she was so angry. Surely she didn’t mean something intimate…something perverse…

I found my keys and stepped into the cool night air. It smelled like summer rain. I decided to walk and enjoy the muggy night. Crickets chirped and a bat fluttered overhead. My heart raced as I thought of Beth’s mysterious message and wondered what her intentions might be. Was it a trap? Would the sex police be there to bust me when I walked up? Would she go nuts and cut my dick off when she realized that only a fucking deviant douche bag would think about jerking off with a pair of her panties?

The door was cracked when I got to Beth’s place. A dim light shone through. I decided that it was an invitation. A dubious one perhaps, but these circumstances probably didn’t warrant ringing the doorbell.

The house was still. A small light illuminated the small entryway. I didn’t call out for Beth and instead crept through canlı bahis siteleri the kitchen. I could see the girls’ door was closed but the door to the master suite was ajar. I tentatively approached and nudged the door open. My heart stopped for what seemed like was an eternity.

I noticed the panties first. The same pair that I so brazenly defiled only hours ago were on the floor approximately where I left them. Beth was on the edge of the bed washed in the glow of the nightstand light. My eyes had adjusted to dimly lit room. She sat motionless with her legs crossed in a black silk babydoll chemise that barely covered her upper thighs. The plunging neckline generously revealed the cleavage of her two perfect breasts. Her delicate hands were folded in her lap. I took it all in at once, from her porcelain skin to her maroon painted fingernails and toes. Her hair fell to her shoulders and framed her lovely face and her lips pursed in a no-nonsense stare.

I exhaled.

“Beth…” I started.

“Shut the fuck up,” she demanded.

I obeyed.

“Finish what you started.”

She must have interpreted the confusion on my face and repeated the command, unfolding her hands and pointing an exquisitely manicured finger first to the panties on the floor and then to my crotch.

“Finish. What. You. Fucking. Started.”

I blushed in the dark. Bending down to pick up the underwear, I regarded them in confusion. “Beth”, I stammered. “I don’t think I…”

“Well you better,” she scolded. “I’m waiting.”

Hesitantly, I unzipped my pants in her bedroom for the second time that day. Despite the fact that she looked like a goddess sitting on the edge of that bed, I was limp as a noodle. I’ve been in some awkward, compromising positions before with lovers, but never like this. She noticed.

“Looks like you might need some help”. She uncrossed her legs and kept one foot on the floor while pulling the other up onto the bed revealing her perfect white inner thighs. They disappeared into the shadow of the lingerie and came together in a neatly trimmed intersection. I didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most inviting-looking sight I’ve seen in a long time. I was instantly hard. She noticed this as well.

She coyly re-crossed her legs, but the image of her most intimate of secrets was permanently burned into my mind. Closing my dropped jaw, I swallowed hard. I wrapped the panties over my stiffening cock. As I began to thrust myself into them, she gave instructions.

“You are going to make yourself come,” she told me. “You are going to come into those panties and not let a drop hit the floor. You will not talk.” She kept her eyes locked into mine. She never broke her gaze and spoke very matter-of-factly. It was as if she were looking right through me with those expressionless blue eyes.

Although in complete and utter disbelief over the surreal circumstances, I kept rubbing myself with those panties. It felt wonderful and I threw my head back and closed my eyes. It didn’t take long. Stroking with the thought of Beth still burned in my mind, I felt myself beginning to climax.

And what a climax it was. I quickened my pace and I felt the tickling sensation deep in my groin. My face flushed and my mind exploded into a million flashes of red and green light. All the wind rushed out of my lungs. Letting loose, I filled Beth’s underwear with stream after stream of hot come. Each time I thought I was finished, another spasm shuddered through my shaft and spewed another torrent of sticky sperm into the pink material. The pleasure coursed through my body and flowed out of my trembling cock.

Panting, I opened my eyes, finally finished. Beth was still in the same pose, legs crossed and staring through me with a flat gaze.

“Are you finished?”

I nodded.

“Okay, now hand me my underwear.” She held out her hand.

I could tell that the abundance of come had soaked the panties through. I crossed the room and handed her the wet bundled piece of fabric and stepped back.

She held the sopping mess in her hand and began to unwrap it. The majority of the semen had gathered into the crotch area. She unfolded the panties as the goo dribbled from them through her fingers.

She met my eyes again, but this time with a wild look. She brought the dripping cloth to her face and tentatively tasted the come with her tongue. Just a small lick at first. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Still locked in her gaze, I watched her lips form into a nasty grin and she stuck out her whole tongue and lapped my come from her panties. She hungrily slurped all of the cream until her lips and chin were coated with the stuff.

Without saying a word, she swallowed, licked her fingertips of the excess, smacked her lips and swallowed again. She then silently lifted her foot and placed it through the leg of the panties. Then the other leg. She stood up at the side of the bed and raised them up under the lingerie and twisted them into place.

I stared in disbelief. It was the single most surreal, revolting, intoxicating, sexual act I’ve even been a part of or witness to. I felt lightheaded from the orgasm and the filthy display of Beth’s passion.

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